Gold Rush

First, just one appeared.
I rubbed my still sleepy eyes and looked again.  Indeed, I did see a small bird clinging to the feeder full of thistle hanging from a pole near my deck.  I thought I noticed a pale yellow breast beneath black and white wings. Could it be? I turned my back for just a moment to grab my camera. I looked again. Yes, my eyes had not deceived me.
Then there were three.
Two were distinctly bright yellow. Now I had no doubt. I grinned broadly. The long-awaited goldfinches had come. They had discovered the thistle, just as the experts had sworn they would. Through some magical communication system, word had spread.
Then there were six.
Even though I had learned that attracting backyard birds requires patience ("Lemon Tree Full of Finches" posted 12.30.12), I still had convinced myself that the promised goldfinches would not come. I had hung a cylinder of special food just for them, and nearly a month later, it remained virtually untouched.
Meanwhile, I had been delighted by the antics of house finches, white-crowned sparrows and an occasional scrub jay. Every so often one different bird or another had come by to investigate the buffet I have offered, but as a rookie, I had not yet identified them. Even a rookie, however, can identify a goldfinch, and I had not seen any.
Until today.
Today I learned once again that patience will pay off. Today I was paid in a bonanza of gold. I have struck it rich.
They behaved just as I had been told to expect. Natural acrobats, they sometimes hang upside down. They chatter and sing.  They seem quite neighborly with the house finches, even allowing them to sample the thistle if they so desire. To paraphrase Henry David Thoreau, they dance to the beat of their own drum. They travel in large flocks, which, according to those in the know, will come and go. They tire of one neighborhood and move on to another and then back again. I hope they don't tire of this neighborhood anytime soon.